


for tonight the fae folk ride

by PhantomEngineer



Series: tell to me? [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Heartbreak, Loss of Virginity, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 11:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18475369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomEngineer/pseuds/PhantomEngineer
Summary: The last time the fae had come to Asgard, Thor and Loki had been children. Old enough to watch as the beautiful bodies danced all night around the fires, but too young to need Frigga’s gentle warnings. Now the fae were back in town, and Frigga had warned them of the need to be wary of the beautiful ladies breaking their young hearts.🧚🏻✨🎉 ⚡️👀💃🏻 🍆 💦👉🏻👌🏼





	for tonight the fae folk ride

The last time the fae had come to Asgard, Thor and Loki had been children. Old enough to watch as the beautiful bodies danced all night around the fires, but too young to need Frigga’s gentle warnings. Now the fae were back in town, and Frigga had warned them of the need to be wary of the beautiful ladies breaking their young hearts.

Loki had not needed the warning. He already knew, and he already knew that his heart would not be broken by a beautiful lady come from afar who would leave in the morning to continue dancing with the stars. Thor nodded his understanding, his eyes still drawn to the glimmering lights and prospect of adventure.

If Loki had been in the habit of lying to himself, he might have said it was for Thor’s own good. Thor would fall in love with a beautiful lady, have his first experience and lose her. That was clearly about to happen. If it was Loki, then at least Thor wouldn’t be hurt too badly, there was no chance of wicked enchantments lingering, of his heart being devoured. No mother and baby returning to demand he take responsibility. He owed it to Thor to be there to allow him his first fumble before he became practised in the ways of love.

Loki just wanted Thor.

He wanted to be his first, even if he knew he couldn’t be his only. He could have him before he moved on, a memory that would linger. Before he married as would have to happen eventually. Then Loki imagined he would have to do something to ensure he found meaning away from Asgard. He didn’t want to test the limits of the worst of him, just as he was surrendering to the bitter desperation buried deep within himself, shifting his body not just into the of a beautiful lady but with the careful application of a spell over that so he would be the most beautiful lady Thor could imagine.

Thor started the night in a bad mood. He was excited and enchanted by the beauty of the magic and the dancing, but he was angry with Loki. Loki who loved magic and dancing, yet had refused to come out of his room, claiming he wished to be left alone to study. 

He could still hear Frigga’s gentle warnings about the dancing ladies echoing through his head, even as his eyes trailed longingly over their graceful movements. He knew how to be careful. He knew that it would end with dawn. He knew that it would be the truest of loves, a night of passion ending in shattered hearts as she vanished into nothingness. An illusion as unreal as Loki’s tricks, but just as beautiful.

His eyes caught sight of a dancer, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She seemed like she had been crafted for him, a body drawn straight from his fantasies. Every detail perfection.

She looked at him, over the flames that flickered, lighting her green eyes that stirred something deep inside of Thor. She smiled, and Thor felt himself fall, accepting it and knowing the pain awaiting him as he took her hand for a dance.

Thor drew her close, pulling her so that her body swayed flush against his rather than alone, not caring who was watching. Everyone who wasn’t themselves already driven to dance was enchanted by the music, unable to tear their eyes from the magical movements of beautiful bodies.

The dancers would dance, under the starlight and bathed in firelight, and then they would vanish away to dance their private dances until dawn ended the flights of fancy. The melodies of the flutes drifted about, filling the air with sweetness even as the rhythmic drums pounded, building to a wild crescendo before subsiding, ecstasy realised, building again and again in waves that rippled through reality. 

Thor swayed, not knowing the steps but guided without needing to, captivated by the woman in his arms. He held her close, breathing in the scent of her. She smelt of starlight and magic, of mystery and secrets. She smelt of forbidden spells and a lonely dawn. 

She smelt of Loki.

Thor didn’t know if it was wishful thinking, if it was him allowing his thoughts to drift away on the music that promised the most beautiful and devastating heartbreak, if it was that her eyes were the same shade of green that he had never seen replicated in nature. 

He held her close, soft as he was hard, letting the sensation of her fill all his senses. Inhaling the rich smell of her hair, the complex perfume of lost love that he hadn’t even tasted yet. A promise of forever that could last no longer than the night, swept away with the light that destroyed all the sensual mystery of the magical dance. Her arms, slender and delicate, were wrapped loosely around his neck as his hands, strong and desperate, gripped at her hips. She moved like the wisps of smoke, like a dream that felt almost real, like a flickering flame.

He felt young. Inexperienced.

Eager to be taught.

She pulled away, enigmatic smile toying with her lips as she toyed with his heart that he felt shatter at the loss of her touch, only to have her beckon him after her. He followed, obedient and enchanted. Unsure if it was a wicked spell that had ensnared her or just the mysteries of a woman teasing a boy eager to be a man. Unsure if she was a fantasy conjured by his deepest desires or his brother playing tricks. Unable to care as he let her lead him, taking the drink she offered. Not the mead of Asgard but the elderberry champagne of the fae. Sweet and sharp, fizzy and intoxicating.

He drank, never having tasted anything that quenched his thirst as it did, feeling it only ignite his hunger, fuelling the fire that burned in his belly. Sweet and sharp, seductive and sinister. 

Like Loki.

He drew her back into his arms. She went willingly, melting into his embrace, her form a perfect fit for his body. As though she had been designed with him in mind. He sighed into her neck, skin like silk against his lips, hair like lace, a curtain to block out the rest of reality as though he could wrap himself in her, sink deep within her and forget about anything else. 

Thor kissed her, tasting her. She tasted of elderberry and enchantments, of magic and mystery. She tasted like how he had always imagined Loki to taste, when he had allowed himself to think such thoughts. 

The music played on.

They wove through dancers dancing, amongst the flickering flames of the fires they lit. Entangled in each other, enchanted by the enigma. He led her and she let him, through darkened passageways to his bedroom rather than the dusky woodlands already filled with the lust of lovers.

She smiled as she let the faint fabric that clung to her fall like water slipping over her body, sinking down onto his bed as though that was where she belonged. No question of intent, no words necessary. The carnival was in town, the night was theirs. Her body was his and his heart was hers. Come morning, her body would leave him with nothing but the haunting memory of touches that seared his soul and his heart would be carried away as she danced along the stairway amongst the stars.

He scrambled after her, without her grace. Enraptured by her beauty. Desperate for more. Torn between the mystery of a silent stranger and the pitfalls of a tempestuous trickster brother. He let his clothing fall off without a care, shedding the skin of a warrior to reveal the lover beneath, even if he was nothing but a nervous beginner inexperienced at bedding compared to a hardened fighter used to the battlefield.

He lay bathed in her presence, kissing her soft lips. The room he knew so well transformed as if by magic, her radiance altering everything. He couldn’t help but tremble at her touch, fingernails trailing down his chest. Dangerous and gentle.

His hands reached out tentatively, nervous and trembling, to stroke at her body spread out for him. To touch the soft swell of her breasts that peaked in pert nipples. Shyly, feeling younger than he was, he pressed a kiss to the one closest, feeling the faint rise and fall of her breathing. He could feel the static in the air, the current running through him and passing into her, uncontrollable and wild as a storm.

She laughed, a beautiful sound like shattering glass, like a breaking heart. Like Loki when the winds got wild as the storm picked up, the two of them safe, protected by their powers that melded together. 

He thought of Loki’s tricks and magic, his mystical ways and the temptation he represented. He thought of Loki playing him for a fool, seducing him to laugh at him, mock his inexperience. He thought of Loki, a foundling, a fae, an explanation that would soothe his guilt and unravel the intricacies of the capricious brother he could never quite grasp.

He kissed his lady again, her mouth warm and welcoming like her body promised to be. Soft and sensual, an eternal enchantment as he was hard and desperate, excited and eager. He wanted to explore every inch of her body, memorise her for their parting. He wanted to provide her with pleasure.

He wanted to give her more than his uncertain fumbling.

She smiled, drawing him closer as though she didn’t mind that he barely knew what to touch or what to do with himself. As though she was guiding him home, even as his mind struggled to name all the places on her body that were hidden secrets, temples of a dark mystery. Shy in a way he never was until there were no thoughts in his head but how right it felt to be inside of her.

He moaned, face pressed into her neck as she stroked his back. Inhaling the scents of her that smelt more like Loki. Torn between wanting to believe her to be Loki and just caught up in the fantasy that she could be. Drowning in feelings, feeling her clenching around him. Losing himself in her and in ecstasy.

“Loki,” he moaned, not able to stop himself when it felt so good and she smelt so right, “Loki, Loki…” Not when he was so close.

He felt her freeze under him, felt the pressure deep inside him fall away sharply as though the promised climax was withdrawn. He looked down into her face, wide green eyes the could belong to no one but Loki framed by milky skin, pale and smooth. Her face was no more a seductress tempting him but devastated, broken, shattered open. A heart laid bare in front of him.

“Loki,” he whispered, certain. Not just a coincidence, a fae that could read his deepest desires, but Loki. Loki with his secrets and spells. Loki who he could never understand. 

Loki swallowed, neither confirming nor denying, just gazing up at him, lost. For once she was adrift, a plan collapsing around her just as she was surrounded by Thor’s aura. Surrounded by Thor’s body, strong and supple above her. Unsure if Thor had caught her in her plan, afraid of the mocking and the laughter that would follow even as Thor remained hazy with lust, still buried within her. Even as Thor whispered her name with such love. Unsure if it was chance, that Thor was thinking of her even as he believed himself with a fae woman to provide a fantasy for the night. Nothing more than a fleeting fancy to be dismissed with the daylight.

“Oh Loki,” Thor gasped, breaking first, stroking back black hair that he had run his fingers through so many times but never so tenderly, “Loki, please… It is you, isn’t it?”

He suspected he had always known, in a way. No one else had such inky black hair, darker than a black hole. No one else moved like quicksilver, beautiful and poisonous. No one else had such enchanting green eyes full of intelligence and wit. No one else had Thor’s heart so completely.

“Brother,” she whispered back, softly and shyly, afraid and anguished. The final confession, the revelation before the finale. The awful truth. 

She didn’t know quite what she expected. Him to withdraw with disgust, maybe. Questions, certainly. Not a kiss, more desperate and passionate than those preceding it, as though the final dam of Thor’s desires had broken, releasing a deluge of love rather than the simple flirtations with lust.

He kissed her as though she was made of stardust, whispering her name like a prayer, shifting inside of her on the edge of absolution. “Loki,” he murmured, not asking why, not questioning her. Just revelling in the dream, the mystical magic the fae had wrought that had led her to his bed.

He felt her relax under him again, saw the fear dissolve back into the raptured gentleness that had dominated her expression. He moved, slower now that he knew for sure, wishing to prolong the experience for the rest for eternity. Rocking and rolling his hips even as he knew it was futile, that the end was nigh.

Loki sighed, her nails raking down his back, her gentle encouragements drowned out as he moaned her name again as though it was the only word that still held meaning. He didn’t know of it felt better than he had ever imagined when it was just him alone with his hand because it was Loki or if his imagination had just been lacking. Maybe it was the magic in the air, drifting charms that heightened everything.

He shuddered and stilled, gasping helplessly, unravelling as he came. With a grunt of pleasure and regret, he rolled off to lie beside her breathing heavily. 

“I love you,” he whispered into the silent darkness as he had done many times before, when they were children. He had stopped as they grew up, the words gaining new meanings to him as Loki began to draw away from him as if Thor’s touch burnt him even as Thor needed to feel Loki to feel alive. 

The silence stretched on, as thought it was a spell that couldn’t be broken. Tangled and mystical, woven around them. Thor sat up, longing to gaze upon Loki, wishing for a hint of the love he felt to be displayed on her beautiful face.

His bed was empty, the sheets disturbed as though the victim of passion but now bereft of the beauty that had lain there.

“Loki?” he asked, reaching out to where she no longer was.

A spell, he wondered. A fae woman feeding on his hidden love, fooling him completely. Loki playing a trick. He didn’t know. He reached out, the bed warm from where she had lain. He could still smell her, the lingering scent of Loki that he wished to cocoon himself in forever.

When dawn broke and Thor sat down for breakfast, he felt Frigga’s sympathetic gaze that commiserated his broken heart as though he mourned a lady lost to the dance of the stars. He looked for Loki, trying to catch his eye across the table but Loki ignored him just as he had ignored him the night before seeking to draw him to the party where love danced with loss.

The tales had foretold it so, a night of true love lost forever, vanished away like a secret, wrapped in a mystery to never be revealed.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote two versions of this fic, this one and one where Loki stays. But I think I like this one more and it allows for a sequel.


End file.
